Monday, April 18, 2016

Reflection

I used to think elementary school was so hard. "What if that boy doesn't chase me today at recess?" I thought. Or, "I hope I can pass the mad-minute faster than last time!"

I used to think middle school was so difficult. "MOM! You can't kick me off AOL IM! They will think I'm mad at them!" I exclaimed. "I need to wear American Eagle, like everyone else," I thought.

I used to think high school would never end. "I don't know what I want to do in college," I worried. "I have to work from 4:30 p.m. to 6:00 p.m. AGAIN, so I can't go," I sadly told friends.

I used to think college was weird. "Let's go on a three-mile run at midnight!" was a completely normal idea with follow through. "I have to stay up all night to finish this paper," I told friends, waiting for reply.

I used to think finding a job was the end of my little world. "What if I don't find a teaching job before this school year? How will we pay our thousands of student loans!?"

I used to think my first year of teaching was the worst thing to happen in my entire life. "I don't know if I can do this every day of my life," I would tell my teacher-husband. "How can we do this without burning out? How can we have a family with this type of job?"

I used to think buying a house was something for my 30s. "I don't even know where to start with that process," I told Justin. "But I need to know we have a private home before we have kids."

I used to think having a baby would be hard. "Can we afford having a kid?" I questioned. "Are we ready to give up our freedom?"
- - - - - - - - - -

If there's one thing I could go back and do, I would tell myself to stop worrying so damn much. There were so many times I heard, "Enjoy your high school and college life. It all goes downhill from there." When I looked at my current situations, and they were difficult, I was overwhelmed with the unknown difficulty of the future.

I've learned, at almost thirty, to stop and enjoy things a little more. And get this: I am a teacher with a house and a kid. Instead of rushing around to find enjoyment, I can sit in a field, look at a cow feeding her calf, and feel complete peace--at least for a few minutes.

As I watch my son get closer and closer to turning two, and as I realize I only get older as he does, I have been reflecting. Life is exasperating at times, but also intensely rich with beauty. Childhood and adulthood has it's low moments, but there will always be the positives.

As a child, I kept playing laser tag with my brother, dreaming with my imagination, and riding bikes to the river for shells. In middle school, I made friends and discovered who I was--and who I didn't want to be. In high school, I laughed so much my cheeks hurt at lunch every day. I escaped for coffee or 7-11 late at night with friends, listening to our mixtapes, and I made trips to Barnes and Noble with love and no money. At college, I ran top speed to catch the bus for groceries, or to get to class on time, letting my face get flushed before walking in. I was daring and forced myself to talk to a girl on the bus, and this girl became one of my closest friends. As a first-year teacher, I couldn't contain the love I had for my students, I laughed every day, and I learned a ton of British literature in a very short amount of time. When we bought our first home, it was our little house in the woods, and I will never forget the oak trees that sheltered us from the wind and sun. At our second home, we are on an open field with a farm, and it is more beautiful than I can even explain. My current job was difficult at first, but it is now one of the most rewarding and fun places I've ever worked.

Yes, life did get harder as an adult. However, I have also matured to realize that without the darkest times, the others wouldn't shine so brightly. I have lost friends and family dear to me, but once the initial pain heals, I still feel like they're watching over me. I have had very difficult situations at work, but time heals, and kids learn who I am. I've learned how dark and scary it is when the whole family is sick in the middle of winter, but once we're better, I look back and laugh. I have wondered how we can afford things on our salaries with our student loans, but it all seems to work itself out. I have had moments where I've fallen back to the anxiety I faced as a shy little girl, but I overcome it by getting up the next morning to face the new day.

High school and college definitely weren't the best times of my life, like many try to say.

Tonight, for instance, was fascinating. Before writing this, I walked inside after reading on my front porch and taking a walk when the moon came out. My husband was watering the new grass, and I was simply walking. I was breathing and walking and looking at the moon. A smile was stuck on my face while I was completely alone, watching the sky form, and listening to the birds. I was looking across the field at the other houses, thinking about how they remind me of lights in Canada on the other side of The River. I was thinking of my grandma, and how I would share the poetic beauty of this with her. I was looking at C's dark window, knowing he was sweetly cuddling his dinosaur, bunny, and the blanket mom made for me when I was a baby. I was breathing, I was looking, and I was happy.

In those moments of walking, I knew, deep down, I was the happiest I'd been in a long time. Even though the world pushes against my elation with terrorism, hardships, sickness, and depression, I am very happy. I love my home, I love my job, and I love my family. I would not choose go back to high school or college, but I look back with nostalgia. Some of my happiest moments in my teens were spent watching the stars from a field, boating in front of a full moon, and exploring the outdoors. Now, I'm almost thirty, and I can still do all of those things, even if I have to get ready for work the next day, and pack lunches the next morning.


Kids Say the Darndest Things ;)

Student: What did you do this weekend?
Me: Well, I mowed the lawn! That was fun.
Student: I can't picture you outside.
Me: What? Really?
Student: I picture you in an air-conditioned library, reading for hours.
Me: While in reality, sure, I could be reading, but it would be sprawled out in an open field!


Friday, April 15, 2016

"You got a 600!"

I've had some fun student comments this year, but today I had a couple of favorites:

"I swear she's a ninja."
"She is, bro."

Lastly, I had a student get a 600 on her writing SOL, so I went to find her. When I pulled her out of class, here's how our conversation went:

"Guess what score you got on the SOL?"
"A 600?"
"Wait...who told you!?"
"What? I did!?
"Yes! How did you know?"
"I was just being sarcastic!"
"Yes, you got a 600! Isn't that awesome!?"
"Thank you, Mrs. T! You inspire me! Why don't you teach dual enrollment?"


Monday, April 11, 2016

Teacher-Momdom

I've been a teacher for five and a half years and a mom for two. I am also married to a teacher. I don't know much, but I know more than I did, and I will keep learning. I used to think that teaching was the hardest thing in the world, and the most rewarding, but then I had Charlie. Being a teacher-mom has been the most challenging, heart-breaking, emotional job. Yet, I am the happiest I've been in a long time. What's going on?

Being a parent has complicated my teaching habits of grading after school, getting to school early, and having dinner out with friends every few days. Being a parent has also made it harder to be a teacher in the classroom. I am less organized than before, I don't get grades done as quickly, and I rarely have time to socialize.

With that said, I also know I'm a better teacher now that I've had my own child.

I no longer sit around gasping endlessly about my seemingly bad day or stressful encounter at the copier. I no longer enjoy hearing gossip and negative commentary. I no longer put down my own job. I no longer think I'm the boss. I no longer have a warped perspective. I no longer expect parents to make their kids spend their entire night doing homework. I no longer think my class is the most important part of their day. I no longer need to prove myself. I no longer think teaching is the highest priority in my life. I no longer have expectations for myself I know I can't keep. I no longer let one person ruin my entire day.

I now feel thankful for my job to help pay for the car and house and everything else that comes with being an adult. I now try to smile and be a little more positive throughout the day. I now realize that putting my job down makes my job suck. I now know that my pride should not be on a pedestal. I now have a broadened viewpoint. I now imagine C when he's older, and I want there to be family time instead of homework. I now remember that students have three other classes. I now realize I don't have to be perfect or prove anything to the kids. I now know family comes first. I now say no when I need to. I now let things go.

Parenting is hard. It's much harder than teaching, but doing both at the same time is a huge challenge. When the whole family had the stomach bug in the fall, I thought I would never make it. When C had croup and we had an ambulance ride on a Friday night, I panicked and thought things would never get better. When C is sick and I have to take yet another sick day, I fear for my job and my reputation. When we lose hours of sleep as a family, I dread hearing the alarm the next day.

Yes, the parent-teacher job is hard. That doesn't mean it has to be a negative, terrible, woe-is-me career...

It's actually beautiful. It's beautiful in so many ways.

When I make the long drive to the sitter's house to drop of my son, I know that he'll be proud of me one day for what I do. When I see him smiling and excited to get dropped off, I know I've made a decision that won't hurt him. When I'm at school, surrounded by many broken, fun, quirky teenagers, I am reminded that they have parents who need me to do the best I can. I need to give them encouragement and confidence to pass a test, while also being the "mom" or "mother goose" or "aunt" they need while at school. When I look across the room at the fidgeting, the sleepy eyes, or the hyperactivity, I see my toddler. I see who these kids once were when they were little, and how the world has changed them--yet somehow many seem innocent. I see my toddler as a teenager one day. I see myself in them, when I was fifteen years younger, enjoying high school for everything but the academics, wishing for a teacher who could give me a story to bring home. When I leave school, I get to go to my son and spend a few short hours with him before bed. These hours are precious, and they are the best part of my day. The entire time I'm awake, though, I think about my students.

Being a teacher-mom is a challenge, but it's definitely one worth taking. I will never stop learning, and I'd never stop loving.




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